


you hang from my lips (like the gardens of babylon)

by allisonattheorpheum



Series: the evermore collection [6]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, M/M, allusions to more than just kissing, drinking but they are all in their early 20s so it's legal, juke is background but they're cuties, no beta i die because mitch poisoned my street dog, t as in troy? no gabriella t as in teen, the band plays jazz standards at a country club, this was so fun to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29003634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonattheorpheum/pseuds/allisonattheorpheum
Summary: he starts to walk towards the stage, his heart racing. “hey, alex,” willie says from behind him. he turns and sees willie holding out a piece of paper that looks suspiciously like a check. “you might want this back.”willie closes the gap between them and tucks the check into alex’s back pocket, lets his hand linger there for a second longer than he needs to. alex’s inhale is shaky and he gets the sudden urge to run his finger along willie’s jawline, so he does.“a thief giving his prize back,” willie says, leaning into the touch. “look at what you’re doing to me.”(or alex knows how to swindle rich country club members and then he meets his match in willie)
Relationships: Alex Mercer/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Series: the evermore collection [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097033
Comments: 13
Kudos: 95





	you hang from my lips (like the gardens of babylon)

**Author's Note:**

> title and inspiration from “cowboy like me” by taylor swift.  
> part of my _evermore_ collection.

alex leans against the bar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bow tie undone and dangling around his neck. there’s a break in the band’s set between dinner and dessert and he’s thirsty, his throat sore with every swallow of spit, desperate for real hydration. the bartender rolls a bottle of water across the counter towards him and he cracks the lid, brings the bottle to his lips and drinks. 

“woah there, cowboy,” a woman’s voice says. “make sure you come up for air.”

alex chokes a little, coughs, puts the bottle down. “hey, mrs. collins.” he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “looking lovely, as always.”

mrs. collins is in her fifties, reminds him of his mother, her teased up-do crunchy from hairspray. she rests her hand on alex’s bare forearm, long mauve-colored nails tapping against his skin. 

“as are you,” she says. “your little band sounds wonderful tonight, but i must admit, i only have eyes for the drummer.”

alex feels his cheeks blush, knows they’re as red as the lipstick that’s stuck on the woman’s teeth. “thank you.”

she laughs, tightens her grip on his arm. “no problem, honey. now, let’s get you a real drink.” she snaps at the bartender without tearing her gaze away from alex. he sees the foundation caked in the lines around her mouth, thinks that if he looks close enough, he could pinpoint exactly where the needles went in to double her lips’ size. 

she orders him a tom collins, nowhere close to his actual favorite drink but it’s what she’s decided suits him best. her stare burns into him as she watches him take a sip, the gin warming him as soon as it hits his taste buds, bubbles from the club soda tickling under his nose. he looks at the clock and sets the drink down.

“break’s almost up,” he says. “thanks for the drink.”

“anytime, alex,” mrs. collins purrs. “i’ve got something else for you, too.” she reaches into her handbag and pulls out a crisp one hundred dollar bill. she puts it in alex’s hand, closes his fingers around the tip. 

alex leans in, tries not to inhale any of the chanel no. 5 cloud that surrounds the woman. he brings his mouth close to her ear, whispers, “i appreciate it.” he smiles, knows he’s just scored himself another hundred the next time their paths cross. he picks up his jacket from where it sits on a bar stool, refastens his tie.

“don’t forget your drink,” mrs. collins says, bringing her hand up to lay against her chest, uses her pinky to nudge the lacy fabric down a bit more. 

alex picks up the glass and his bottle of water and smiles at her, makes sure he makes it convincing, bares his teeth. “until next time,” he says.

he turns away and heads back towards the stage at the front of the country club’s banquet hall. luke and julie are huddled together, julie making big motions with her hands, acting out something to get her point across. reggie sits on the edge of the stage, feet dangling, and he looks up at alex, flashes him a double thumbs-up. 

“i think i saw benjamin franklin come out to play?” he asks as soon as alex is within discreet-conversation range. 

“okay, reg, your eyesight is freakishly good.”

reggie laughs and stands up, walks over to julie and luke. “dinner on alex tonight,” he says. “old lady collins was feeling generous.”

“she’s gonna be so heartbroken when she finds out you’re gay, bro,” luke says, resting his arm across julie’s shoulders. she reaches up and laces her fingers through his, leans into his body. alex pushes down the feeling of _want_ that crawls into his chest. love’s nice, sure, but love has never gotten him cufflinks for christmas; the women at the country club have.

“au contraire, lukey boy.” alex rolls his sleeves back down to his wrists, slides into his jacket. “they never have to know.”

once dessert is over and the patrons have tired themselves out from dancing, the band starts to pack up for the night. alex is wiping down his cymbals when he sees him. he’s wearing tight black shorts that stop at his knees, a black suit jacket with tails, and a shining brooch of some sort of flower. his hair is long, dark brown, pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck. alex watches as he talks to a married couple, as he puts his arm around the wife’s waist and says something to make her and her husband laugh. his smile is luminous, unrestrained.

alex watches, still, as he moves his arm higher, as he reaches his hand into the woman’s purse, tucked neatly between her and her husband. he keeps them talking and they don’t notice, don’t look down as his hand pulls out a wallet, tucks it into his pocket and returns his arm to the woman’s back to say goodbye. he shakes the husband’s hand and turns to leave, catches alex’s eye and nods.

“who’s that?” julie asks. alex hadn’t realized she was standing behind him. “your new target?”

alex shakes his head, says, “i have no idea.”

“you got the biggest tip of us all _and_ some eye candy? maybe you should invest in a lottery ticket.”

luke comes up to them and drapes his jacket over julie’s shoulders, grabs her hand and presses a kiss to each of her knuckles. “he’s not gonna have anything left over for the lotto after he treats us to dinner, jules. i’m thinkin’ surf and turf.”

“i don’t know,” reggie says. “i could go for a meatball sub.”

alex laughs and offers his hand for a high-five. “yeah, i’m gonna go with that. sounds cheaper.”

the four of them grab the rest of their gear and walk down the stairs together, head towards the employee exit. julie’s humming one of the songs they played that night, “just the way you look tonight,” and alex hates the way his mind plays back the memory of seeing that guy, with his sharp jawline and long, nimble fingers. his foolish heart skips a beat at the image.

*

the next time alex sees him is three days later. he’s dancing with mrs. yoshida while julie plays a few songs by herself. older than mrs. collins, mrs. yoshida had clung tightly to alex’s elbow as he brought her to the dancefloor, and as they sway to julie’s melody, alex is sure he can hear her bones creaking with every movement. 

her hands are dangerously low on his back. “i think you’ve gotten taller,” she’d said when the song began, had smiled up at alex with her too-big dentures. he makes sure not to step on her toes, compliments her on her dress, long and floral-patterned with a matching blazer. the song is halfway over when he sees him. he’s wearing the same outfit as before, for the most part, with a different brooch and ridiculous pizza-patterned socks. his hair is loose, falls over his shoulders in waves. 

alex watches as he trips over a chair, knocks the purse that was hooked over it onto the floor. his eyes flick around the room and, seeing no one paying attention to him, he reaches his hand into the cavernous bag, pulls out a clutch and a pack of cigarettes. he pockets them both. when he stands up, righting the chair and putting the purse back where it was, his eyes flick to alex and he smiles, cocks his head ever-so-slightly. 

“did you hear me, alexander?” mrs. yoshida is asking. alex looks down at her and puts on his best do-it-for-the-money smile. 

“sorry, beautiful,” he says. “what’d you say?”

“clean your ears out, boy! my great-granddaughter is single and she just moved to the area and i _suppose_ i could share you with her, but... ”

alex’s attention drifts back to the pickpocket. he’s on the edge of the dancefloor, twisting a piece of hair around his finger, silver ring catching in the light. alex feels mrs. yoshida’s hand creep further down his back and jumps a little when she slides it into the back pocket of his dress pants, squeezes a little. 

thankfully, the song ends, julie’s voice fading out into nothing, and alex walks the woman back to her table. she pulls a checkbook out of her bag and writes one out, painfully slow. she tears the check out of the binding and hands it to alex, her fingers cold and trembling against his.

“here you go, young man,” she says. “get yourself something nice, and i’ll get you my zoey’s number next time, okay?”

alex nods and kisses the top of her hand, avoiding the liver spots and protruding veins. “it’s been a pleasure,” he says. mrs. yoshida is charmed, it doesn’t take much, and alex backs away, intends to head back to the stage. 

his path is blocked by the pickpocket. “smooth moves,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. “how much did that little dance pay out?”

alex trips over his words. “it’s not like that.” he clutches the check tighter in his hand, hoping the gathering sweat doesn’t fade the ink.

“come on, blondie,” he says. “i know a con when i see one. fifty bucks?”

alex’s lip quirks upwards and he puts the check in his jacket’s pocket. no point in lying when he knows he has leverage against the guy. “times ten.”

the pickpocket whistles, low and long, and runs his eyes over alex’s body. “five hundred for a dance? or is there more to your arrangement?” 

“no, nothing like that,” alex says. “i mean, she definitely grabbed my ass.”

“i think it’d be easier just to, ya know… ” he wiggles his fingers in the air, mimes slipping something into his pocket. “i’m willie, by the way.”

“alex,” he answers. “and you’re a thief. how do you even get past the doors? i could report you right now, you know.”

willie pushes his jacket’s sleeves up, runs his hands through his hair. “you won’t,” he says, and alex knows he’s right. 

“i think we’re both treading the line of criminal activity. i’m pretty sure charming old ladies into giving you money is considered elder abuse in some places.”

alex’s jaw drops, mouth open like a fish. he knows it’s a bit… _unsavory_ , his little game, but it’s not his fault that he’s so charming and handsome and, well, he’s only a few more slow dances away from having a down payment for a new car. 

“you keep looking at my pockets,” willie says. he’s right, again, alex’s cheeks pink from getting caught. “dance with me?”

alex laughs and sinks his hands into his pockets. “i’ve seen you in action,” he says. “dancing with you could be dangerous.”

willie shrugs and licks his lips, tongue darting out like a snake, and alex knows it holds venom. “no funny business, alex. just thought you might be interested in dancing with someone who’s more your type.” he holds out a hand and alex lets his gaze linger on it, the long fingers he’d previously seen in some woman’s purse now beckoning to him.

“yeah, okay,” he says. “i’ve still got a song before i need to get back up there.”

he takes willie’s hand and they move onto the dancefloor. willie’s arm wraps around him, pulls him in, and his hand settles on the small of alex’s back, where mrs. yoshida’s had been minutes prior. it sends lightning up his spine. alex puts his hand in the same place on willie, the other two clasped and held out away from their bodies. 

“so,” willie says, taking the lead in the dance. “you just sweet talk these rich women into paying you or what?”

“it started with just a few drinks when we got done playing,” alex answers. “i already get an employee discount but, hey, free’s better than half-off, right? then some tips, twenty bucks here and there. my bandmates and i had a bet going to see who could get the best tip. turns out that the ladies love me. listen to them, compliment them, flirt a little… ”

“make them fall in love with you, you mean.”

alex stammers, loses his footing for a second and steps on willie’s toes. “sorry,” he says. 

willie takes his hand off of alex’s back and brushes a piece of hair away from alex’s eyes. he shivers, inhales as willie trails his thumb down his cheek. “you’re cute when you’re flustered,” willie says.

julie sings the last notes of “the look of love” and alex clears his throat. “time to get back up there,” he says, untangling his fingers from willie’s. “it was nice to meet you, even if you are a thief.”

he starts to walk towards the stage, his heart racing. “hey, alex,” willie says from behind him. he turns and sees willie holding out a piece of paper that looks suspiciously like a check. “you might want this back.”

willie closes the gap between them and tucks the check into alex’s back pocket, lets his hand linger there for a second longer than he needs to. alex’s inhale is shaky and he gets the sudden urge to run his finger along willie’s jawline, so he does. 

“a thief giving his prize back,” willie says, leaning into the touch. “look at what you’re doing to me.”

alex hears those words over and over for the rest of the night.

*

it’s two days later and alex is getting changed in the bathroom, buttoning up his freshly pressed white shirt in front of the full-length mirror. the band has had the country club gig for almost a year and a half and he’d never get used to the extravagance of the men’s room. the door opens and there he is, willie, black choker around his neck. alex looks at him through the mirror.

“i thought i saw you come in here,” he says, gives a sly smile. 

alex’s heart skips a beat and his fingers fumble over the tiny buttons. “hey,” he says. “i like your socks.” they have hundred dollar bills drawn all over them. 

willie laughs and steps closer. “i thought they were pretty fitting, don’t you?”

alex finishes the buttons and turns around. willie’s hair is pulled back again and there are a few loose pieces framing his face. they dance in alex’s exhale, that’s how close the two are to each other.

“hey,” willie says, so quiet it’s almost a whisper. “how long until you go on?”

alex looks at his phone to check the time. “like, twenty minutes. why?” 

willie reaches into the front pocket of his shorts and pulls out a small rectangle of paper, holds it up in the air. “wanna take a ride around the parking lot?” he raises his eyebrows.

“dude, is that a valet ticket?” alex asks. he plucks the paper out of willie’s fingers and looks at it; sure enough, _wilshire country club valet_. 

willie shrugs and looks at alex through batting eyelashes. “what do you say?”

“i’m pretty sure whoever’s working the booth is going to know this isn’t yours,” alex says. 

“oh, ye of little faith. i’ve got friends in high places, how else do you think i get in here all the time?”

willie grabs the ticket back, runs his finger down the bridge of alex’s nose in the process. “come on, sugar baby, let’s see what we’ve got to work with.” he grabs alex’s hand and pulls him towards the door; alex barely has time to pick up his backpack and suit jacket.

“i’m not a sugar baby,” he protests. he moves his hand in willie’s so that their fingers are tangled together.

willie looks back towards him and winks. “whatever you say.”

sure enough, willie knows the valet, greets him with a fist bump, says, “little spin around the block before blondie here has to serenade the masses.”

the valet laughs and says, “sure thing, willie,” hands him a key from the rack hanging inside of his booth. willie hits the unlock button on the fob and headlights flash in the parking lot, an audi r8. alex’s eyes are dinner plates, in awe. willie jogs towards the car, but alex is stuck in place, backpack falling off of his shoulder.

“if you take any longer, we’re only gonna have enough time to turn the ignition on and off,” willie calls.

alex finally gets his legs to move, widens his stride to catch up to willie. the car is black, sleek, and alex realizes what it means when people describe a car as sexy. willie opens the passenger door, waves his hand in front of it as if presenting it as a gift. “after you,” he says.

alex slides into the seat, the interior black and smooth. willie gets in, turns the car on. alex feels the vibrations of the engine under him, puts his seatbelt on as willie navigates the car out of its parking space. 

willie glances over at him and smirks. “safety first,” he says. alex’s knee is bouncing up and down, anxious from being in such a small space alone with someone he doesn’t even know all that well. willie lets one hand rest on the wheel, puts the other on alex’s thigh. “everything okay?”

“yeah,” alex says, but it comes out quiet and broken. he clears his throat, tries again. “yeah, of course. can i ask you something?”

willie keeps his eyes trained through the windshield but nods in response. all of the blood in alex’s body rushes to his thigh, pools under willie’s hand. he thinks the heat under his skin could burn straight through his suit pants. 

“why do you do it?” he doesn’t specify, figures willie will know what he means.

“there’s no one reason,” willie says. “the thrill, maybe. a lot of times the get isn’t even worth it. i should take some pointers from you.” he smiles and steals a quick look at alex. “your turn. same question.”

alex rests his head against the car’s window, watches the lampposts lined up along the driveway speed past his eyes. “just trying for the good life, you know? the country club gig doesn’t pay great, enough to live but not much more. we’re trying to get our names out there, put down a demo or something. it’s a hustle, but anything extra helps.”

willie nods, doesn’t say anything else. soon enough, they’ve completed the loop of the driveway and our back at the audi’s parking space. willie turns the engine off but doesn’t move. “by my count,” he says. “you still have six minutes before you need to be on stage. let’s give you three to get from here to there.”

“and the other three?” alex asks, unfastening the seatbelt, turning his body towards willie. the lights of the parking lot shine through the windshield, a spotlight on them both.

willie turns, too, and runs his hand from alex’s thigh to his chest, rests it against his pounding heart. alex had forgotten his hand was there and the movement sends flashing lights and screaming sirens to his brain.

willie rests his other hand against alex’s cheek; his eyes lower towards alex’s lips, and alex bites the bottom one between his teeth.

“cool if i kiss you?,” willie asks. alex can only nod.

in the silence of the car, the noise alex makes when willie’s lips touch his, a gasp and slow exhale full of satisfaction, is amplified. the other man’s lips are soft, vaguely fruity, and alex leans into the kiss, lets his hand find the hair tie in willie’s hair and pulls it out, tangles his fingers in the locks.

he feels willie smile, his lips meeting teeth, and he opens his mouth, too, runs his tongue along the enamel. willie bites, just enough for alex to feel it, and if he wasn’t sitting down, the sensation would have brought him to his knees. willie sighs into alex’s mouth, brushes his thumb along alex’s closed eyelid and pulls back. alex whines at the loss of contact and willie presses a few kisses along his cheek, on his nose.

“you don’t want to be late,” he says. his voice sounds torn apart, ragged.

alex nods and opens his eyes, touches their foreheads together. “thanks for the ride.” he leans back and opens the door, the outside air a shock against his flushed skin. he swings his legs out of the car, goes to stand, but willie’s hand on his shoulder keeps him sitting.

“hey,” he says. “if you wanna do something later, i can hang out until you’re done showing off for your girlfriends.”

alex leans his head against willie’s hand, angles it to brush his lips against the soft skin. “yeah, i’d like that,” he says. “just don’t get caught in the meantime.”

willie laughs, opens his own door. “i wouldn’t dream of it.”

*

after escorting mr. lyons to the coat check counter and accepting his fifty dollar tip, alex goes back to the stage, grabs his jacket off of his stool.

“i didn’t know you were an equal-opportunity bandit.” the voice makes alex jump a little; he wasn’t expecting it, and he turns to see willie grinning, elbows resting on the stage. “not just women, i mean.”

“yeah, well, sometimes it’s just easier to stick with i know,” he says. he winks at willie and walks to the edge of the stage, sits down next to where willie is standing. “i’m surprised you’re still here.”

willie feigns shock, puts a hand on his chest. “i told you i would be, didn’t i? you look pretty good up there.”

“are you gonna introduce us to your friend?” reggie asks, walking past alex and messing up his hair. alex ducks out of the way.

“yeah, um, this is willie,” he says. “that’s reggie, and the nauseating lovebirds over there are julie and luke.” he gestures to the piano where the two are sitting next to each other on the bench, whispering about something, luke rubbing circles down her back.

“hey, dude,” willie says. he and reggie bump fists and alex rolls his eyes. of _course_ he’d wind up with a crush on such a bro.

“i’m actually gonna hang out with him tonight, so -- ”

“so don’t wait up,” reggie continues. he nods knowingly. “have fun, kids.”

*

hanging out with willie, it turns out, is a lot different than what alex had expected, no criminal activity to be found. 

they had walked to willie’s place, a skateboard tucked under willie’s arm, and had talked about random things, favorite colors (blue for willie, yellow for alex) and most impressive stolen wallet earnings (four grand in cash). when they’d gotten to his apartment -- a modest place, clearly the residence of a guy in his early-twenties but it was clean and modern -- willie had offered dinner, quickly whipped up a pasta dish with a salad and some bread (“just baked yesterday by my mom,” he’d said). 

the food had been delicious, the wine even better, and they’d moved to the couch after dinner. alex was tipsy, ever a lightweight, and had made a comment about willie’s clothes: “do you always wear this outfit?” willie had ran his fingers up alex’s side, whispered against his ear, “would you rather i wasn’t?”

cut to now, a tangle of limbs in willie’s bed. alex is tucked under willie’s arm, their legs a jigsaw puzzle of skin. alex’s hair is messy, sticking up every which way as a result of willie’s fingers threading through it, pulling it. they’ve been pieced together like this for almost twenty minutes, but alex’s exhales are still shaky. if someone were to put a megaphone to his chest, his heart’s pounding would sound like a marching band’s synchronized steps. 

“you know, i probably should be worried that this whole thing is just one long con,” he says, voice tired and raspy. 

willie shrugs, smirks, says “i guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

alex sighs and traces patterns on willie’s chest. “if it is,” he says. “i think it’s a pretty great one.” he closes his eyes, matches the timing of his breaths with willie’s, and falls asleep.

he squeezes his eyes tight against the sun as he wakes up. it takes him a few seconds to remember where he is, what happened in the time since he went to work last night. he smiles at the memory, more surreal than anything right now, and stretches. the bed is empty next to him and he sits up, sees a note on the bedside table. the handwriting is sloppy and, even though he has never seen it before, it’s obvious that it would belong to willie.

 _alex, got called into work. didn’t want to wake you, you’re cute when you snore ;) s_ _ee you soon. i had a great time_

alex picks up the pen next to the note and adds his own parting words: _i don’t snore_ , his number, a description of a memory from their night that he can’t blink away. he grabs his clothes off of the floor and gets dressed, shakes his head to help his hair fall back into place. he slides his feet into the sneakers he changes into after the band’s done playing and shrugs his backpack onto his shoulder.

he takes a deep breath, smells the deodorant that willie must have used that morning. as he walks through the apartment towards the door, he takes in the details that he hadn’t noticed before: a painting leans up against the wall in the hallway, signed by willie himself; fresh dahlias in a vase on the entertainment center; a shoe rack that holds more options than one person should own. he lets himself out, closes the door softly behind him. there’s already a yearning in his chest, an aching desire to be invited back inside.

\--


End file.
